


wishbone

by bastardbones



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Owada Mondo, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Internalized Homophobia, Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Misogyny, Owada Mondo Lives, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Content, Toxic Masculinity, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastardbones/pseuds/bastardbones
Summary: He never asked Ishimaru to confess his past or his family drama or his grocery list of anxieties. He never approached Fujisaki with the mention of strength training and he never asked Ishimaru to scream, "Take me, instead!" They were his friends. They both trusted him and for that, they died.
Relationships: Celestia Ludenberg/Owada Mondo, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 19
Kudos: 48





	wishbone

**Author's Note:**

> This is the whole "Taka is executed in Mondo's place" concept. I haven't done a ton of stories set during the killing game, because it usually feels kinda restrictive. Anyway. Please be mindful of the tags!

* * *

Before they even step onto the elevator, Mondo sends Togami flying. Then it is an eruption of sound; Fukawa gasps and Yamada outweighs her femininity with a shriek. Hagakure is frozen and Neagi, he should know better by now, but he steels himself, as though his ass wasn’t catching air on Day One. Oogami, she is the only one strong enough to subdue Mondo. She puts him in a headlock and he is thrashing and he is **not** trying to hurt her, alright? He would never hurt a girl, but Oogami is the one thing between him and Togami and a 3rd class trial. Mondo will kill him right here, in front of everyone, and that would complete the trifecta, wouldn’t it? Daiya, Fujisaki, and then Togami. There would be balance. 

Asahina starts crying, her voice cracks on a _please_ , as she begs Mondo, _“Don't hurt Sakura!”_ Again, he would never—these girls got it bad for each other and Mondo, he is real understanding of that. They have a thing going and it reminds Mondo of that time in the library, when Ishimaru used his own body as a shield to protect Togami. Mondo should have thrown Ishimaru harder. Should have bruised Ishimaru and maybe spat in his face and called him a _virgin_ the way Yamada did. Should have made a real enemy of Ishimaru. Should have pissed in his food. Should have tied his shoelaces together and watched him trip. He should have done that, because—

If Ishimaru had hated him, then. Well. 

Kirigiri observes from a distance. Always watching, this one. She made a fucking fool of him earlier. Picked apart his words then flung them in his face. He wants to hate her, but she’s the heroine, right? She saved her classmates. 

Kirigiri makes nine. The nine remaining students... He’s missing one.

Celeste. Celeste in her candy red pumps and blood red nails and _Celeste._ Her fake eyes of concern. If Mondo tore her hand away from her mouth, her lips would be turned. A smile. This shit-eating smile that Mondo has seen on enough men to know that Celeste is a lady in appearance only. Her dress is ironed and her eyelashes are curled, but she is Grade A, Fake Ass Bitch.

Nobody suspects her. Day One, Ishimaru made a suggestion that everyone assemble in the mornings. Then, Celeste suggested they return to their rooms at night. See, she was diplomatic like Ishimaru! She, too, cared about preserving the peace. Bullshit. That was fake. Mondo could rip off her face and see the liar behind it and she would say, _“See, Oowada, aren’t I just like you?”_

Togami wipes himself off the floor. Fukawa is trembling like a chihuahua and spouting some nonsense about her poor, injured master. Aw! Poor little rich boy! Daddy didn’t play with him so now he plays with dead boys and extension cords! Fujisaki had been degraded. See, when Mondo finished wiping the blood from his fist, when he finished holding back tears, he had gently wrapped Fujisaki in his Diamond jacket. A dead body loses heat fast. Mondo knows; he remembers. Mondo was shaking and trying to scrub that stain out of the carpet and he was telling himself this lie. That if he could keep Fujisaki warm, he might not be dead. Fujisaki was turning blue, though. His skin was blue and that shattered the fantasy. In the end, he retrieved his jacket, unraveled it from the arctic mound that was once a girl and then a boy and now a corpse. Truth is, Fujisaki had always been a man. He was a better man than Mondo and that was the problem, right? That’s how they got to this point. That’s why Togami has a bloody nose and Fukawa just fainted and Celeste is _smiling._

Mondo wakes up in his room. Oogami is standing at the edge of his bed and apologizes for being so forceful, but he simply left her no choice. Naegi is there, too. He is standing close to the door, a safe distance away, and Mondo feels dangerous. He barks, appropriately—like an animal. When Daiya died, Mondo lost his self respect. With Fujisaki, his manhood. With Ishimaru, his humanity.

Naegi is about to say something about Ishimaru. Oogami advises him not to.

Mondo spends the night alone. When he closes his eyes, he sees Ishimaru, the way he was clinging to his jacket. The awful sounds ripping from his throat as he begged and begged until finally, his pleas were answered. Mondo should have fought harder. He should have convinced Ishimaru not to do it. He should have fallen to his knees and pleaded like a bitch, the way Ishimaru had.

Mondo should never have befriended him. 

In the morning, he doesn’t go to the cafeteria. He wonders if anyone will even show anymore, without Ishimaru there to implement his rule. Instead, Mondo stays in his room for the entirety of the day. He washes his hair in the sink, combs out the tangles and lets the water drip down his shoulders. His makeup is smudged, but he doesn’t reapply it. He looks like a girl. You know, after a boy just broke her heart. 

There is a knock at the door. When he answers, Celeste is standing there in her frilly doll-like dress. Mondo slams the door shut.

He masturbates throughout the day. That can’t be normal, right? He’s hardly had time to process the deaths of two people and here he is, ejaculating into his hand. After Daiya died, after he had been zipped into a bag and Mondo limped home, he locked himself in his room and smoked a bowl. He still feels guilty about that. His brother had just died and his solution was to get higher than an elephant’s ass. He had ripped his clothes off, sprawled naked on the bed, then smoked, smoked, smoked. It was indulgent. It was also a distraction. The weed made him feel his emotions more intensely, but it calmed him down, too. If he could, he would be smoking right now. Maybe he could scour the school and sniff markers, like the way he used to when he was a kid. Anything for a temporary high. By the time the 10PM announcement is made, Mondo is having dry orgasms. 

He sleeps until noon. He might have slept forever, if not for the painful twisting in his stomach. The last time he ate was in the cafeteria with Ishimaru. Between them, they had scarfed down an entire chicken. It could have been enough to feed everyone, but they had gobbled every shred of meat for themselves. Mondo liked watching Ishimaru dig his face in. He liked watching Ishimaru suck the juice from his fingers and burp into his fist. It was probably the manliest thing Mondo had seen him do. Mondo had set aside the wishbone. It was greasy, so he blotted it dry before choosing a side. Ishimaru took the opposite and it snapped in his favor. 

Mondo was a sore loser—he always had been. Before he could even whine about it, Ishimaru was beaming. 

“You can have my wish!” 

His smile was nice. Mondo thought he should smile more. 

(In the elevator, Mondo had noticed Ishimaru’s laces. They had come undone and rather than point it out, Mondo took a knee. That earned a few glances, probably a look of disgust from Togami and a soft glimpse from Asahina. Mondo double knotted his boots and then wished he hadn’t. If he tied them too well, another opportunity might not arise. Then he realized how idealistic that was. That very soon, either Mondo was going to die or everyone else would perish in this place.

“Thank you, _kyoudai!”_ Ishimaru had smiled then, too.)

There is a polite knock at the door. Mondo knows it’s her before answering.

“Fuck off,” he dismisses. He goes to slam the door again, but she kicks out her foot and the boy scout inside him knows it’s not very polite to sever a girl’s toes. 

“Is that any way to address a lady?” Celeste frowns.

Mondo looks at her. Then he looks over her head. He sees no lady.

“What d’ya want?” 

“The others are beginning to worry. It seems you haven’t left your room in some time.” She tilts her head to peer inside, but he shifts to block her view. Her eyes soften. “How are you, Oowada?”

See, there it is! That fake shit! _Fakey-fake!_ Celeste is a pretender. She dresses like a princess from some make-believe place, with the jingly earrings and long black socks. The fabric is dark, but sheer enough that he can see her leg beneath it, smooth and hairless. Then that show of skin, above her knee. That creamy white sliver below the bloom of her dress. Her thighs look soft. With just a touch, he imagines how her flesh might raise and how she might whimper in that dainty little voice. What color are her panties? Maybe red like her shoes or pink like her mouth or pink like her—

“Go away,” Mondo growls. He grits his teeth as blood rushes to his groin. He makes eye contact with Celeste, figures if he looks real mean, she may not glance down. If she would just move her damn foot, he could make his retreat, either crawl under the covers or jack off in the shower. Her foot does move, but not in the direction it should. She steps forward and absently, he thinks, he should push her. She has these goddamn heels on, though, and if he pushes wrong, she might twist her ankle. Then she might be on the floor and crying for help and he sees Fujisaki, with the blood down his face. 

Mondo isn’t a monster. He doesn’t want to be. 

She walks him backwards into his room. The door clicks behind her and hasn’t this happened already? The boy and the girl in the room together? She gives him that smile—the one that doesn’t match her eyes—and he panics. He throws her onto the bed and the mattress bounces an inch off the frame from the sheer force of it. Celeste gasps and for a moment, there is a flash of honesty. A slipping of the mask. _Good._ He is hovering over her how a proud, hungry fox hovers over a hen. With his fangs, he could rip her throat. He could drink her blood, suck her marrow, chew her meat. He could snap her clavicle and make another wish. 

“Oh, my!” She giggles. “You’re so strong!”

Mondo feels his shoulders deflate. She isn’t intimidated in the slightest. 

What the FUCK is up with girls? Better question—what’s up with HER?

“You fuckin’ with me right now?” Mondo sneers. 

She slow-blinks in response. Her eyes are lidded and dewy and Mondo realizes his erection is still growing. His breath hitches as she reaches to stroke his bicep. Her hands are sinfully smooth, massaging circles into his muscle, and God, she couldn’t hope to get a fist around any part of him. Celeste has the smallest hands he’s ever seen on a girl. She traces a vein, then another, until her nails are tickling his forearm. Then she holds him there, two hands on his wrist, placed on either side, and…

Her mouth closes around his pointer finger. Mondo can feel his stomach drop.

She twirls her tongue, then pulls off with a satisfied pop. As if she was tasting him. As if she is the fox and he is the plump, tasty bird. 

“You’re so strong,” she says again. There is so much adoration in her voice that it backfires and sounds like an insult. Or maybe that was the intention—to insult him.

"What the fuck is this?" Mondo drops his hand to her throat and _she lets him._ "Y'know I could kill you, right?"

The threat is empty. He knows it and so does she. 

"The way you killed Fujisaki?"

Mondo grimaces at the name. Fuck. Fujisaki was so small and he trusted Mondo, he trusted him with his secret, but Mondo never asked for that, okay? He never asked for that burden. He never asked Ishimaru to confess his past or his family drama or his grocery list of anxieties. He never approached Fujisaki with the mention of strength training and he never asked Ishimaru to scream _,"Take me, instead!"_ They were his friends. They both trusted him and for that, they died. 

He doesn't know whether to say _shut up_ or _sorry._

"Oh, Mondo," Celeste sighs, pitifully. 

"Oowada," he corrects. 

_"Oowada,"_ she mimics his gruff tone. With her knee, she begins to massage his crotch. "Does this excite you?"

A girl has never been underneath him until now, and a girl has never expressed much interest, despite his best efforts. Despite offering to walk her home or buying her flowers or the chivalrous bullshit his brother taught him. He doesn't understand girls and his head is all kinds of fucked up and confused. Celeste is doing this on purpose. She knows he's wounded—she’s smelt the blood and followed the trail. 

"Stop," he hisses from between his teeth.

"You don't like it?" Celeste asks in mock-apology, but stops as demanded. "I thought you liked feeling powerful. Your body, you trained to be like this so no one could hurt you. Your strength is so impressive and I hate to see you waste it feeling sorry for yourself."

"Bullshit," Mondo snorts. "I ain't sorry."

She turns her head and Mondo follows. Her eyes flick around the room; the dirty laundry, the overturned chair, the towel damp with cum. Her eyebrows lift. 

"Aren't you?" 

"Ain't Yamada yer bitch?" Mondo snaps back. "If ya want something, go bug _him!"_

Her hands drift to his face. 

"I want you," she whispers.

"No, ya don't," Mondo flinches away; her touch is like fire. "No one wants me."

"Fujisaki wanted you. As did Ishimaru." Celeste is unfazed, she reaches for him again and tucks some loose hair behind his ear. "Oh, Ishimaru wanted you so badly, he knew he couldn't live without you. Him taking your place was a selfish thing. He _needed_ you."

Ishimaru had red eyes. When he looks down at Celeste, with her red eyes and black hair and pale skin, she looks an awful lot like him. They could have been siblings. At a glance, Mondo really thought that. Then Celeste had begun speaking in her French accent, sounding convincingly European and Ishimaru, if he wasn't a Tokyo native through and through. Ishimaru seemed like a stuffy city boy. He attended a private school and wore pants with a center crease and Mondo, Jesus—Mondo hated guys like that. Ishimaru was just another privileged brat… Except, he wasn't. 

Ishimaru, on the floor with his double knotted boots. Ishimaru, clinging to Mondo and hugging his leg and wailing, _"Please, don't hurt him! Please, don't kill my friend!"_ How could Ishimaru possibly make a sacrifice like that? How could Mondo let him?

"You should leave."

"Afraid you'll break me?" Celeste taunts. "Try."

"No," Mondo glares.

"Why not?"

Why not? Celeste is five-foot something and must weigh six pounds soaking wet. He is a giant compared to her.

"I can't hurt a girl."

"Why can't you?"

"Shut up!" Mondo barks. She jolts and it bothers him because he doesn't know if that's part of her act. If she's just pretending to be startled. It bothers him, so he stammers, "Listen, I dunno, I—Girls are weaker than men, okay? I'm stronger than you."

"I'm just a weak little _girl,_ is that it?" 

She sounds offended. Wait, Mondo didn't mean it like that. Women are strong in other ways, but Mondo, his bicep is larger than her head and he isn't going to pretend it isn't. 

"I—I meant physically! Y’know what I’m sayin’? Look at 'cha! Yer so small and—”

"Do you like that I'm small, Mondo?"

His dick twitches.

"Oowada," he swallows. 

_"Oowada,”_ she purrs. "Do you like that I'm small?"

She begins kneading him again. The pressure is good, but far from satisfying. Enough to make his brain buzz, but far from making it melt. Celeste makes this _mmm_ sound in her throat, like they are naughty kids doing naughty things and Mondo decides to think with his dick, because thinking with emotions just tends to get people killed, right? He wants a distraction. He wants to forget. Now here she is, sweet Mary Jane. 

He loves that she's small. He loves it and exhaling, he says, "Yeah."

She pinches the hem of her dress.

"Would you like to see how small I am underneath?"

Her panties are black.

He remembers his brother would bring girls over, sometimes two at a time, and it was no mystery what they did in the bedroom. Sometimes Mondo would see a slimy condom in the trash bin, then pretend he hadn't. His brother was always getting laid and Mondo was still having his cheeks pinched and it wasn't fair. He was old enough. He was a man, right?

The bed is too low and Mondo is too tall, so he has to climb under the covers with her. She insists upon the blanket. He wants to watch his dick move in and out, but the surveillance camera is right there. It wouldn't take a genius to decipher the movements, but Mondo turns the light off and throws the blanket over them both. His mouth is dry and his stomach gurgles, but he feels between her legs and she is wet. Then he makes her full.

He squeezes her tits and she squeezes his ass. It kind of looks like their spooning, but really, they're fucking and Celeste reaches back with her small pretty hand and slides a finger inside of him. Sex is supposed to feel good, right? Isn't that the whole point? Celeste is clenching around him and he starts rubbing her clit and all her patronizing moans become a little less fake. Her thighs tremble and he might be doing something right, but then she swats his hand away to touch herself. He puts his hand around her throat. He's starting to mean it. Heat gathers beneath the blanket and it reminds him of the sauna. He buries his face into Celeste's black hair and pretends. 

Ishimaru—No, Taka. He smells Taka's hair and it smells like spice and citrus. Mondo groans and sucks the back of his neck, he might leave a mark, too, so everyone knows. He thrusts slowly, because why should he rush? They could spend forever doing this and that way, they could stay out of trouble, too. Screw everyone else. They can stab each other and run in circles and solve mysteries and Mondo doesn't give a damn, anymore. He gets loud and he kisses Taka, but Taka refuses to kiss back.

That's fine. That's okay, right? Taka doesn't have to kiss him. Kissing makes it real and Mondo isn't like that, you know? He doesn't swing that way and neither does Taka. They can experiment—guys experiment, sometimes. They can fuck without kissing and one day Taka is gonna rock some pretty girl's world from all that practice he got. Taka is straight and Mondo isn't—

 _La douleur exquise_ or literally, the exquisite pain. Celeste teaches him that. When they finish, she pets his head and schools him with a few useless phrases. Mondo has never enjoyed the French language. People gush about the sensuality of it, but Mondo thinks it sounds ugly. Too many phrases for too many useless feelings. _La douleur exquise,_ the ache of unattainable love. God, the melodrama. Almost as theatrical as falling in love in two days. Almost as unrealistic as anticipating a wish, made on the bone of a dead bird. 

_I just wanna know that he likes me._

Taka, on the floor with his double knotted boots. Taka, clinging to Mondo and hugging his leg and wailing, _"Please, don't hurt him! Please, don't kill my friend!"_ Then the relief that swept over them both. Mondo could keep his pathetic, murderous life in exchange for the gentleman and the martyr that was Kiyotaka Ishimaru. Of course that was fair. Of course they could trade. And of course Taka _liked_ him. Taka hugged him and he sniffled and then he went rather willingly, peacefully even, because he liked Mondo _so damn much._ Mondo should have told him before all that, should have looked him honest in the eye, pulled him aside and said, _“Hey, man, yer fuckin’ cool. I mean that shit for real. I fuckin’ like you, man. I know we’re bros, but I’m really into you and… Sorry… Forget it. You don’t gotta say nothin’.”_

What a chicken. Mondo Oowada—what's his speciality, again? The Ultimate _Coward_ , right?

He feels like a boy. For being jealous of Fujisaki. For letting Taka take the heat. For finishing himself and not Celeste (she cried out, shook her legs and the whole bit, but she faked it—she's fake). He feels weak. And he feels small and he feels so much like a boy, that he starts feeling like a girl. Celeste gently wipes the sweat from his forehead. He's her bitch now. She asks him to carry her to the shower and without question, he does. Nudity doesn't seem to bother her anymore. For her, the shameful part is over. She won and this is her reward. The strongest boy, possibly the ticket to her freedom, and she owns him. 

_“Après moi, le déluge,”_ Celeste teaches him next. She translates, but the sound of running water drowns out her voice and Mondo loses the plot.


End file.
